You see things, I see a movie. This is how it always plays in my head. There's a movie reference in my pocket for every sentence and a lens for each hand movement. Close ups and black and whites, shots from a corner and a blurred background. Everything is nothing but a camera trick, illusions and magic mirrors- this is how I see things. This is what my mind sounds like, so listen closely, because the words may not make sense.
Post begins here.
From the beginning, as soon as you're born, you're like a wave crashing onto a shore. Some are more fiercer than others, and others, well, they're gentle and almost unrecognizable- these you generally overlook because you're waiting for the stronger ones. The ones that look like they can bust a bitch, you know? The ones that form caverns by the rocks, and ruin sand castles. We crave destruction, and that's why we like crash landing, because it means we've achieved something. The subtle waves that tickle your toes and give that sand castle of yours a moat don't really deserve a polaroid, or a cover page on the latest issue of The National Geographic. They're never seen, but they're the reason behind that soft smile or look of pride after perfecting the most awesome sand castle ever- though we don't even realize it.
A boy on a skateboard. A kid on a playground. A busboy cleaning tables. A car driving by. And of course, the girl that's reading a book, her hair ruffled by the light breeze, sitting cross legged on a bench, because that's what they look like in the movies. Right before the tsunami, tornado, or whatever natural disaster this blockbuster is about hits. Let's not forget, this is an analogy. We're talking about life and maturity and all that jazz. Behind this particular image and in the literal sense of things, this is the year when the kid still loves his mom more than his tiny friends, and eating ice cream; where he'd rather be held than run around turning tables and discovering that not everything is food. It's this scene, right here, for your entertainment. This is how we grow; this is what it looks like.
Then comes the actual storm. Where everything is rationalized and logic is twisted to justify the most bizarre of thoughts. Isn't that what kids are like, particularly teenagers? Dramatic displays of emotions, be it anything from excitement, contempt, or loathing. All rather theatrical really. We're all depressed, and there's no hope left. The world is out to get us. And no amount of positive, inspirational, and motivational shit can make us feel better, because hey "I'm different. No, trust me on this, I know nothing can change." We think that we're, to put it cheesily, the only exception. The wasted few, you know? That the universe has it out for a few people and we have the honor of being handpicked to represent premature wisdom. A bit conceited when I put it that way, eh?
That's why everyone's a smart ass, and when the storm eventually passes and they realize the reality of their messed up logic, they fade away into cubicles and become the workers of a factory that screws up the environment into another natural disaster.
Moral of the story: You are not special. You're not meant for anything great, stop believing everything you see in the movies. And more importantly, don't trust yourself- self-loathing is inevitable, hopelessness is a given, and society will always get in your way. Giving up, even when it feels so damn fucking good is not what you want. So again, don't trust yourself. Wait till the storm passes, it'll be when you're around twenty three, twenty nine or even thirty five. Whenever. So buckle up. It's a bumpy ride.
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